


We Keep Trying To Draw Infinity

by DefaltManifesto



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abstract Character Study, F/M, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, No Romanticizing Mental Health or Institutions Here, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They poke around in their minds as they wander, searching for bits and pieces of dropped memories to try and fit into the puzzles of their heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Keep Trying To Draw Infinity

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been stewing in my head for the last 2.5 years and I finally put it on paper and I'm so excited to share it with you guys because holy shit. 
> 
> This fic was based on the song Church Channel by Say Anything and that is also where the title comes from. I'd listen to the song before reading it. Let me know if you think I need more tags.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Boyd dreams.

He dreams of being alone and sad as everyone gets older and he stays _alone, alone, alone._

He dreams of being warm and surrounded by his pack, by people who love him and run with him.

He dreams of golden hair and golden eyes and a _fake, fake, fake_ smile that makes his heart race.

He dreams things that he thinks are memories, then swallows the pills that remind him they're delusions.

 

-.-

           

Erica has nightmares.

She claws at her enemies, all _red, red, red_ eyes, like that will make it all stop. It never does and she wakes up alone to stare at the ceiling to watch her nightmares play across the blank white space.

She thinks the ceiling is like her mind; just _empty, empty, empty._

There's nothing there, they say. Just delusions. Just her imagination. Just dreams.

They don't listen when she says her nightmares are real. Only reality could be that cruel.

 

-.-

 

The colorful concoction of pills Boyd must take changes every month until they find one that stabilizes his 'condition'. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't try to convince them anymore because they'll never _listen, listen, listen._

Soon, they say, he'll be able to out to the recreation room.

Soon, they say, he'll be almost _normal, normal, normal._

 

-.-

 

It's through her open door as the nurse wedges her meal cart there to get her food, that Erica sees him. He's wearing a white shirt and blue pants like they all do, and he's skinnier than she remembers, but she _knows, knows, knows_ him.

She knows his strong profile, his arms around her shoulders, his hands twisted in her hair, and his _yellow, yellow, yellow_ eyes.

Then he's gone and there's a mixture of bland food and too many pills waiting for her consumption.

 

-.-

 

Boyd remembers being strong enough to bend metal bars and break chains meant to keep him in place. He remembers being strong enough to wrestle a man with red eyes to the ground and nearly slash his throat open with claws. He remembers walking the fine line between human and _animal, animal, animal._

He remembers a girl, more important than the rest. He remembers her voice in his ear saying that maybe the eclipse would make them _strong, strong, strong._ Stronger than he'd ever been.

Sometimes, he thinks he can feel that strength under the surface. He reaches for it, but it slips just out of his grasp every time.

 

 

-.-

 

Erica sees him across the room. He's sitting on his at a table, a book from the small bookshelf at the back of the recreation room in his hands. She's read every single one cover to cover, drinking in the knowledge and the stories and the fantasies like they're the only things keeping her _alive, alive, alive._

She wants to say something to him. Wants to approach him. Wants to ask him if he remembers her like the way she remembers him.

But she's scared of what will happen if he says _no, no, no_.

 

-.-

 

"Do you remember me, or is your mind that worn?"

The voice belongs to the girl in his dreams, the girl who was so powerful but fragile. The girl sitting across the table from him is like the girl he remembers but flipped inside out.

She's pale, gaunt, and her eyes look _hollow, hollow, hollow_.

"I know you," he says.

Her smile is just like he remembers and it makes his heart _thump, thump, thump_. He wants to make it better. He wants to know why he remembers her. He wants to know why they're both here if it was all just a dream.

 

-.-

 

They try to piece it together. They trace names that are familiar to them along one another's forearms. They can't risk their doctors or nurses seeing them write down any of the names they know they've said when they were still trying to convince them that it was all real.

In the end, all she remembers is _Isaac, Isaac, Isaac._

In the end, all he remembers is _Scott, Scott, Scott._

-.-

 

Erica finds her spark first. It's a quiet flame, nestled in the protective cage of her ribs and the warmth of her beating heart. She feels it for the first time when Boyd smiles at her for the first time, a soft thing that makes her whole body light _up, up, up._

She knows what the spark is, what power it can give her. She knows her nightmares aren't fiction, knows that if she tries hard enough, she can find that power again. The power that broke when she and Boyd escaped the Alpha Pack.

The flame fills up all the dark places in her body that had felt so empty. She feels like she's putting herself back together piece by _piece, piece, piece._

-.-

 

Boyd finds his spark when Erica slips into his room in the dark of the night, breaking the lock on his door with a twist of her wrist. She's strong now, and he likes watching her move. Every day she looks stronger, every day she looks more confident, and it isn't the false confidence that he knew so well before. It's so _real, real, real_.

She climbs into bed with him and they curl around each other like the kindred spirits he now knows they are. He slides his hands through her golden hair and when her eyes open to stare into his, the power of the wolf coursing through her and lighting up her irises, he can feel it pumping through him too.

She leaves in the morning, before anyone can realize she's missing from her bed. He stares at the ceiling and imagines that they're running away together under the _dark, dark, dark_ sky.

 

-.-

 

They leave together, in the dead of night. It's remarkably easy once they have their werewolf strength back. They aren't completely whole, not yet. They poke around in their minds as they wander, searching for bits and pieces of dropped memories to try and fit into the puzzles of their heads.

They should try and find their pack. This seems like a given. But neither of them want to, because what use was a pack when they could take care of each other? So instead, they keep wandering.

Because now, they're _free, free, free._


End file.
